


If I Win

by MermaidMarie



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Making Up, Mentioned Shindo Ainosuke | Adam, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post Episode 9, actually talking about feelings, langa loses against joe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 23:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30113370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidMarie/pseuds/MermaidMarie
Summary: Frustrated, confused, and a little bit desperate, Langa moved forward, grabbing Reki’s wrist before he could get any further away, and—“Race me.”It had the intended effect, at least. Reki stilled. He wasn’t leaving anymore.-In which Langa, making very reasonable decisions about communication, challenges Reki to a race to get him to actually talk about his feelings.
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki
Comments: 14
Kudos: 374





	If I Win

**Author's Note:**

> just a few days until episode 10, how we all feeling. i'm doing This, so i think how i'm feeling is pretty obvious.  
> Anyway. Teenage boys being Very Good At Communication: The Fic.

“Better luck next time, rookie,” Joe’s voice came from behind him.

The fact that he’d just lost the race really couldn’t have been further from Langa’s mind as he knelt down, holding the broken board in his hands.

He wasn’t even sure how it had happened. He must’ve strained it when landing after going down the handrails. He hadn’t even been going that fast, pushing it that hard, his heart too heavy and slow to feel like trying.

Regardless, the deck had snapped. 

“I need to fix it,” Langa murmured. “It can’t… It can’t be broken, I need to—”

Joe leaned down to take a look.

“It would be easier to get a new one,” Joe suggested, his tone light.

“I can’t do that,” Langa said, frowning. He traced a finger over the jagged edge of the board, where the wood had splintered.

He had no idea how to fix it. He had the urge to just press it back together and mutter some prayers, hoping he could undo the break entirely. Turn back time to when it was whole. All he could think of as a solution was duct tape, and that didn’t exactly have the permanence he wanted to clutch onto.

“Reki made this one, right?” Joe said.

Hearing Reki’s name just made Langa’s chest hurt. He nodded dully.

“Then you need to get him to fix it,” Joe said.

“I don’t know if…” Langa clutched the broken board a little tighter, willing his hands not to shake. He glanced up at Joe.

Joe smiled. “You’ll never know if you don’t try, right?” he said softly. “It’ll be alright. It’s you and Reki, after all.”

He said that like it was simple, or obvious.

Langa frowned a little. He wanted it to be simple.

It was _supposed_ to be simple.

“Guess I’ll have to try,” Langa murmured.

Langa felt completely disconnected as he rejoined the audience for the second race of the night. Adam had given some vaguely nonsensical speech up on stage before pulling the names, but Langa wasn’t listening at all.

Reki hadn’t shown up. Langa had held out hope that he would, especially after seeing his window open, but he hadn’t. It was one thing if Reki was just avoiding Langa, specifically—that just felt like Langa had done something wrong, like Reki was still mad at him about the promise. Langa could hope to make up for that—talk it over, apologize again.

If Reki wasn’t even showing up to S anymore, though…

That felt like a more decisive loss.

“So you’re out of the tournament,” Miya said with a light sigh.

“What?” Langa blinked, still not fully paying attention. “Oh. Right. Yeah, guess so.”

“Disappointing,” Miya said. “I totally wanted a rematch.”

“Me too,” Shadow piped in. “You got lucky the first time.”

“Yeah,” Langa said absently, eyes still glued to his board.

“Langa, are you even watching the race?” Miya asked.

“Not really,” Langa admitted. If he were being honest, he couldn’t care less about the tournament anymore. His heart already hadn’t been in it in that race with Joe, something feeling empty and lonely about the whole thing. And now his board was broken, and Reki wasn’t there, and he couldn’t think about anything else.

“Langa,” Miya said. He snapped his fingers in front of Langa’s face.

“Hm?” Langa finally looked up from the board.

Miya was studying his face, one eyebrow raised. “Losing to Joe threw you off this much? Are you _that_ used to winning?” he said, half teasing.

“That’s not it,” Langa murmured. “It’s just…”

“Reki?” Miya filled in.

Langa pressed his lips together. “I think I’m gonna… head out.”

“Not even gonna see who wins?” Miya asked.

“Cherry will,” Langa said.

“Mm. Guess we’re all in agreement,” Shadow said.

It didn’t really matter to him who won. The tournament seemed so inconsequential in the face of Reki’s absence and the broken board. As always, there were more important things than winning. There were more important things than competing.

Langa could hear the sounds of the audience cheering and shouting as he left.

He stopped by the skatepark where Reki taught him, just the two of them in this place that it felt like only they knew about. Just in case. Maybe if Reki hadn’t gone to S, he would at least be here. It felt like the place he could’ve found Reki.

As it was, the skatepark was empty and dark.

Langa felt like Reki _had_ been there, that he’d somehow just missed him. Echoes of Reki’s presence seemed to linger.

He felt like if he’d just skipped out on that stupid race, he would’ve been able to catch Reki here. He could’ve forfeited the tournament, apologized to Reki—maybe Reki would’ve smiled, and they would’ve just skated in circles, the two of them practicing tricks until the sun went down.

Then he’d still have the skateboard, and he’d have his best friend again.

But no. It was too late. If Reki had been there before, he wasn’t anymore.

Langa, feeling lost and empty and alone, went home, ignoring the updates about the race from Miya and Shadow.

In the morning before school, he waited again, in the usual place.

Even with the growing certainty that they weren’t meeting here anymore, that Reki wasn’t going to show, Langa still waited until the last possible moment, just in case.

Without his skateboard, he realized just a _little_ too late that he couldn’t wait as long as he really wanted to. He hesitated, staring down the road, hoping that Reki would appear. He didn’t. No one was there.

And Langa was already going to be late to school, even if he ran.

With a stifled, frustrated sigh, Langa took off, running towards the school. If he ran fast enough, he could maybe get there in time to only be five minutes late.

At least having to focus on the steady pounding of his feet against the pavement occupied him enough that he wasn’t still thinking about Reki.

He paused in front of the door to the classroom, enough to catch his breath at least a little, before trying to slip in as quietly as he could.

“Langa,” the teacher said, in a disapproving tone. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Langa murmured, ducking his head and hurrying towards his seat.

Reki was angled away from him, looking intently down at his notebook. It looked like he’d been drawing, but his pencil had gone still, his fingers clutching it. His shoulders were tense, and his breathing uneven.

Langa settled into his seat, casting glances Reki’s way.

Eventually, Reki flexed his hand and went back to drawing. He still didn’t look up at all.

Langa couldn’t see what Reki was sketching out. And he’d never had to ask before—Reki had always been eager to show him, sometimes unwilling to wait until the end of class, shifting his notebook to the edge of the desk and whispering about it until the teacher noticed and it got them in trouble.

Langa sighed, leaning forward on his desk. Trying to figure out what he was supposed to say to make things better.

It wasn’t until after school that Langa managed to catch up to Reki, out in front. He had no idea where Reki had disappeared to for lunch, but he hadn’t shown when Langa waited.

“Reki!” Langa called, rushing out of the gates before Reki took off on his skateboard.

Reki shot him a quick glance before sighing and picking up his board, starting to walk. “You need something?” Reki asked.

“I…” Langa hadn’t actually planned this far ahead. He’d been so worried about whether Reki would be willing to talk to him at all. He’d never figured out where to go from here. “You weren’t at S.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Reki tensed and angled away from him.

“Yeah, well,” Reki said. “I told you. I’m not interested.”

Langa bit the inside of his cheek. “Did you hear what happened?”

“Miya texted,” Reki replied in a clipped tone. “That what’s going on here? You wanna hang out now that you lost?”

“No, I… That’s not…”

“Gotta love being a second choice.”

Langa frowned. “You were the one avoiding me,” he said.

Reki let out a small huff.

“You didn’t even get to race Adam. Must be disappointing.”

“Reki.”

“What?”

“Can we… talk?”

Reki ran a hand over his hair in a restless gesture, looking down at the ground. He offered a small shrug.

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“I… wanted to apologize,” Langa tried.

Reki scoffed. “You already did. But, hey, you still went to the tournament, so it really didn’t mean much, actually.”

Reki started walking faster, and Langa sped up to match his pace.

“Did Miya tell you everything that happened?” Langa tried.

“Nope. Just the basics. Who won, who’s up next.” Reki shot him a look. “You don’t have to tell me any more than that either.”

“My board broke,” Langa blurted out.

Reki slowed, finally turning to look at Langa. His brow was furrowed, the bitterness that had been lingering faded. “What? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Langa said. “It just… snapped.”

“Huh.” Reki tilted his head slightly. “Like, the deck itself? The wood broke?”

“Yeah,” Langa replied, a fluttering of nervous excitement that Reki was asking. “Right after I crossed the finish line racing against Joe.”

“Did you pull any of your crazy snowboarding tricks in the factory?” Reki asked.

“Not really.”

“Was it unsteady at all during the race? Like, did it feel like it was straining at the turns or anything?”

“I don’t think so,” Langa said. He frowned a little. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t as fast as usual.”

“Weird,” Reki murmured. “Wonder if I should’ve gone for a thicker deck…”

“Can you take a look at it?” Langa asked.

Reki faltered, blinking like he’d forgotten they were talking. He stopped walking. “What?”

“The board. Can you look at it?” Langa tried not to sound too desperate, but he wasn’t sure if it worked.

They were just frozen on the sidewalk, facing each other. Reki broke eye contact, looking down at the ground.

“Just get Oka to do it,” Reki muttered.

“But you’re the one who made it.” _It wouldn’t be the same, to have someone else work on it._

“Clearly not well enough, if it broke,” Reki replied. He shifted, like he was losing patience standing there. 

Langa’s chest tightened. “Please? I want to know if you can fix it.”

“Doesn’t matter if I can or not, I’m not fixing it,” Reki said flatly.

“What? Why not?” Langa asked, a slight waver in his voice.

“What, so you can race Adam?” Reki’s voice was dripping with contempt, a hard edge that Langa didn’t even know he was capable of. He shook his head. “Forget it. I’m not enabling your recklessness.”

“No, that’s not—I’m not—” Langa stared, trying to gather himself enough to explain, but he kept stumbling. “I’m not even in the tournament, I lost.”

Reki didn’t look impressed. “So you don’t still want to race Adam?”

Langa blinked. He’d barely thought about it. He _had_ wanted to do it before, did he still? He didn’t even know. He hadn’t considered it. It had been pretty far from his mind, really.

He was still struggling to come up with an answer, but Reki scoffed like his silence had been enough.

“That’s what I thought,” Reki said.

“Wait,” Langa tried. He felt like Reki was moving faster than he was, and he just _needed_ him to wait so that he could catch up. He did want to get left behind because he couldn’t understand what was happening between them.

“No. I’m done.” There was a finality in Reki’s voice that was a little bit terrifying.

“Reki…” Langa started, off balance.

“You know what sucks? I thought we were—” Reki cut off, with a short laugh that sounded almost like a sniffle. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t.”

_Thought we were what?_

It felt like it really did matter, actually.

Reki shouldered past Langa, starting to walk off.

Frustrated, confused, and a little bit desperate, Langa moved forward, grabbing Reki’s wrist before he could get any further away, and—

“Race me.”

It had the intended effect, at least. Reki stilled. He wasn’t leaving anymore.

He was still angled away from Langa, his head hanging and his hands balled into fists. Langa wished Reki would just _look_ at him, would just _explain_ to him what was so wrong that they couldn’t even talk.

“What?” Reki said, with a small, humorless scoff.

“Race me,” Langa repeated. He tightened his grip around Reki’s wrist. “I’m challenging you to a beef.”

Reki let out a thin, tired sigh. His shoulders sagged, tension seeping out of him like cut strings. Gently, he reached over and pried Langa’s hand off his wrist.

It was almost worse that it was so gentle and tentative, like Reki was trying to be kind now. Like Reki was trying to let him down easy, like he was too tired and disconnected to keep up the anger, and he just wanted to be done.

At least if he were still angry, Langa could cling to that. It would mean he still cared enough to feel.

This felt too close to giving up.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Langa,” Reki said, and he continued turning away.

Langa reached forward again, grabbing his shoulder this time.

“I’m serious,” he said. “ _Race_ me.”

Reki didn’t move, so Langa did, slipping around so that he was in front of Reki, blocking his way back home.

Reki was looking at the ground.

Heart twisting in his chest, Langa noticed a tear slipping down his cheek. Was that his fault? What could he do to make it better? Seeing Reki cry felt like nothing less than an emergency.

“I’m not going to race you, Langa,” Reki said through a sigh.

“If I win, you _talk_ to me,” Langa pressed on. “That’s my bet. If I win, you talk to me about what’s wrong and—and you let me _try_ to make things okay again.”

Reki shook Langa’s hand off his shoulder and took a step back.

“Everyone knows you’d win,” Reki said quietly. “I’d have to be an idiot to take that bet.”

There’s something like soft, broken laughter in his tone, like even the thought was ridiculous. Like it wasn’t even a question worth exploring.

Langa gritted his teeth.

“You went up against Shadow, you challenged Adam, but you won’t race me?”

Reki shrugged. “Maybe I’m tired of losing.”

“So you won’t even _try_ anymore? Reki, what’s _wrong?”_ Langa took a shaky breath. “I don’t understand, and I can’t unless you tell me. But I know this isn’t like you.”

“Like you know me well enough to make that call.”

And _that_ might’ve hurt more than anything else Reki had said.

“Reki, _please,”_ Langa said, and he was barely sure what he was asking for.

“What do you want from me, Langa?” Reki said. He scrubbed a hand down his face before raking his fingers through his hair. Looking up at the sky instead of at Langa.

“I… I don’t _want_ anything, I just want you, I—” Langa felt his voice wavering. He didn’t want to cry, but he was feeling so hopeless. “You’re my best friend, Reki. I _miss_ you.”

And that must’ve been the wrong thing to say, because Reki’s expression twisted like he was in pain and he dropped his gaze back to the ground, curling in on himself a little bit.

“Maybe if _I_ win,” Reki said quietly, “you leave me alone.”

Langa swallowed back how much that hurt. “So you’ll do it, though?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Reki replied with a sigh. “Once the tournament’s over, and Adam won’t be at S anymore, I’ll race you.”

“Okay,” Langa said, his voice soft. “Um… thanks.”

Reki didn’t say anything else. He just ducked his head and walked away, leaving Langa with a last little fizzling spark of hope.

Langa heard from Miya how the rest of the tournament had gone. He hadn’t really felt like going to watch it. It didn’t feel important.

It had come down to Adam and Joe—apparently, the race between them had been intense, especially considering how pissed Joe was about what Adam did to Cherry. The way Miya described it, it sounded like an action movie where Joe was the star.

Langa almost regretted missing watching Joe beat Adam. Almost. Not quite.

He ended up wandering into Joe’s restaurant, only partially on purpose. He picked a table off to the side and found himself staring vacantly at the menu.

It didn’t take long for Joe to come over.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted, leaning over the table a little. “Didn’t see you around the other night.”

Langa tried to smile. “Yeah, sorry for missing it.”

“Ah, no worries,” Joe replied with a shrug. “I’m sure it wasn’t _that_ exciting.”

“Congratulations on winning the tournament,” Langa offered.

Joe grinned. “Bet it makes it feel better now, that you got knocked out in the first round,” he said. “You just _happened_ to be against the winner of the whole thing that early. Bad luck. You might’ve gotten farther if you’d just been against someone else.”

Langa sighed. “I don’t think so. I couldn’t… I couldn’t make myself try harder. My heart wasn’t in it.”

“Hey, kid,” Joe said, faux-scolding and nudging Langa’s arm. “You better not be saying I only won because you were off your game. It was fair and square.”

“It’s not that.” Langa leaned forward on his arms. “Reki wasn’t there. I don’t think I could’ve won anything without him there.”

“Ah,” Joe replied, nodding like he understood.

“I’m supposed to race against him.”

“Come again?”

“Reki. I’m supposed to race against him.”

Joe paused. Carefully, he took a seat across from Langa. “Why?”

Langa sighed heavily. “So he’ll talk to me.”

Joe let out a soft, warm laugh. “Teenage boys. As always, excellent communicators.”

Langa gave a half-hearted scowl. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Win, I guess,” Joe said.

“I don’t have a board anymore,” Langa said. He frowned. “Reki wouldn’t fix it. He said he didn’t want to enable my recklessness.”

“Can’t fully blame him there,” Joe murmured. Then he took a deep breath and offered a smile. “I’ve got a board you can borrow. It’s nothing special, but it’s still got wheels.”

Langa blinked up at him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Joe said, casually waving him off. He looked down at the table, drumming his fingers lightly for a moment. “You know… If you want Reki to talk to you, you could try just talking to him first.”

“I _have_ tried,” Langa protested.

Joe shook his head. “I mean you could try _telling_ him how you feel. Where you’re at with him. You can’t expect him to know your feelings any more than he can expect you to know his.”

“Telling him my feelings sounds embarrassing,” Langa mumbled.

Joe smiled. “Maybe. You never know, though. Something great could come of it.”

Langa shifted uncomfortably. He half-wanted to protest at the implication, but the words would’ve been weak anyway. If Joe could see it, then there was no point in trying to hide it. 

Langa looked down at his hands, his palms upturned and empty. He thought about Reki’s warm smile, his bright laugh. How much it hurt when Reki stopped smiling so much. How desperate he was to make things okay again.

“But what if he doesn’t feel the same way?” he said softly.

“Then at least you will have tried,” Joe said. He clapped a hand on Langa’s shoulder. “Trust me, kid. Take it from someone who knows. It’s _always_ better to have tried.”

Langa skated around on Joe’s extra board, trying to get used to it. He found himself going slowly, meandering in circles. Going down hills, the wind in his hair, everything felt too quiet. The streets were empty.

It was hard to go any faster than a lackluster pace, without the sound of Reki’s laughter nearby. Langa felt heavy and tired. He knew he needed to get used to some speed on this board, since he was racing the following night, but it felt like something was dragging him backwards.

Eventually, he gave up and skated home, hoping for some miracle to make him race like he had that first night against Shadow.

Langa had gotten there early, restlessly wandering until he’d found where Reki was waiting, apart from the main crowd. He was already with Shadow and Miya, leaning against the wall.

“The two of you are racing?” Shadow was saying. “This should be interesting.”

Reki rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

Langa had hoped that he could catch Reki alone before they started, but no such luck.

“And there he is!” Shadow announced, gesturing towards where Langa was tentatively approaching.

“The great Snow,” Miya said, with a slightly sardonic tone. He nudged Reki’s arm. “Soon you’ll be able to join our club of people who’ve lost to him.”

Reki offered a forced smile. “We’ll make T-shirts.”

Langa shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to say. He was watching Reki carefully, and Reki seemed to be deliberately avoiding meeting his gaze.

When it was time, they lined up for the race. Langa felt his heart racing, but it wasn’t that bright, floating energy from when he skated before. It was a pit of nervousness in his chest.

He took a breath.

“Reki,” he said, his voice quiet under the commotion around them.

“Yeah, I know,” Reki replied.

Langa wasn’t sure what he was responding to, but he nodded anyway, bracing himself to move, one foot on the skateboard.

Without the toe clip in place, without the familiarity of his own board, without the safety of knowing Reki had built the thing he was standing on, Langa felt unsteady. Too late, he realized that he wasn’t actually sure if he could do this.

Maybe he should’ve thought to duct tape his feet to the board.

Beside him, Reki was holding his own board, his expression hard as he gazed down the path in front of them.

The red lights started marking time, the noise of the crowd around them murmuring things about _Snow_ in excited, eager tones. Langa could barely hear them, distracted by the way Reki’s amber eyes narrowed.

He didn’t hear it when the sound rang out, marking the beginning of the race. He just saw Reki take off, and realized he was already a second behind.

Desperately, Langa kicked off, the gap between him and Reki already feeling insurmountable.

 _Bad start._ Langa couldn’t afford to make mistakes like that, not now, not in this race.

Irritated shouts from the people who’d been muttering _Snow_ before followed him as he leaned forward, trying to catch up. He couldn’t care less about anyone that was watching them.

The unfamiliar board wobbled slightly beneath him, and he wished he’d spent more time practicing. He almost wished he’d just spent all night going up and down this hill, memorizing the moves he’d need to make to win.

As it was, he settled onto it, taking a deep breath before lowering himself, trying to gain speed. Reki wasn’t _that_ far ahead of him yet. Enough for it to be noticeable, but not enough for it to be hopeless.

_I can do this. It’s **not** hopeless. _

Langa leaned forward, barely thinking about how unsteady he felt as they approached the first major corner.

Langa remembered the feeling of racing before, how his heart felt like it was lifting, how the wind whipped past his face, how he could fly. It had been thrilling, exciting, pulling tricks and going faster—he’d felt invincible, like something else was moving him forward, the promise of the finish line tugging at him.

_(Maybe it had been the promise of who was waiting for him at the finish line that really tugged his heart forward.)_

Here, now, Langa didn’t feel excited. He just felt desperate.

It wasn’t that he wanted to go faster, wanted to push himself farther, wanted to get better. This time, it was that he was afraid of failing.

In every other race he’d been in, he hadn’t been afraid. Even against Adam, when it was dangerous and Adam was threatening and Langa had known how much he could get hurt, he hadn’t been _afraid._ He’d been determined.

Now? He was terrified. Not of getting hurt, but of losing.

He’d never cared about winning much before.

It wasn’t even like he had a guarantee that winning would _help,_ that it would solve anything. All he’d asked for was a chance to try, a promise to be able to talk. If he won, it was entirely possible Reki would just list off everything he’d done wrong, every reason he didn’t want to be friends anymore, and Langa would be at a loss for what to say or how to fix it.

Reki was better at talking than Langa was. Maybe, even when given the chance, Langa wouldn’t be able to apologize in a way that mattered. Maybe he didn’t _have_ the words.

But this felt like the only way he had a shot at all.

Langa managed to get close enough around the corner that they were neck and neck, just about even. Until Reki shot him a sidelong glare and did the railslide Miya had taught him on the inner bend and pulled ahead again.

Langa let out a short huff. _Stupid._ He knew how to do that, too—he should have. He’d just gotten distracted by his simmering anxiety.

He focused on the sound of wheels on pavement, trying to drown out his own fear.

At the next turn, Langa managed to get to the inner bend first. He pulled off the same railslide Reki had, but when he righted his board again to get to the straightaway, his front foot faltered, nearly slipping off, no toe clip in place.

_This is it, I’m gonna lose—_

“Langa—”

Before Langa fell completely, Reki was there, grabbing his wrist and steadying him, their speed matched.

For a frozen moment, Langa stared at Reki, some kind of awe in his chest. That split second, with Reki’s hand against his wrist and Reki’s warm brown eyes gazing at him with concern, felt endless. Langa couldn’t have even been sure if they were moving, as he forgot to breathe.

The moment broke with Reki seeming to realize what he’d done, pulling his hand away like he’d been burned, and kicking off to get ahead again.

Langa was left still and breathless for another second before he sped up after Reki.

They went on like that down the hill, mostly even, Reki usually a little ahead. Langa knew that, as always, his best bet was going to be to get ahead at the abandoned factory. It was how he’d beaten both Shadow and Miya.

If he could do it then, he could do it now, he just had to focus on the finish line.

Reki was in front of him when they got into the building—which was fine, definitely fine, Shadow and Miya had been ahead by this point, too. As long as they entered the building close to even, it was anyone’s game.

Reki wasn’t hanging back to block him the way that Miya had, or taking the moment to look back at him like Shadow, he was just speeding towards the stairs.

Langa got to the stairs just behind Reki.

Without hesitation, he jumped his board up to the rusted handrails.

“Langa, don’t!”

Reki’s voice was strained and breathless, but the most important thing was that it was _behind_ him, as Reki took the safer way down.

Langa kept his gaze ahead, ignoring the precipitous drop to his side. He couldn’t stumble or falter at all or he’d fall all the way to the hard ground below. He felt a bead of sweat on the back of his neck, concentrating hard on keeping his balance.

He’d almost forgotten about the gaps in the railings, the ones he’d only been able to get across in the race with Miya because of the way Reki had altered the wheels on his board.

He remembered just in time.

Just barely, he managed to swing his board back onto the safety of the stairs before the broken handrails sent him flying. He cut Reki off as he did, hearing a soft, hissed swear behind him.

They were even again when they left the stairs, and Langa couldn’t tell at all who was in the lead.

Langa could barely hear the shouts of the crowd over the blood in his ears, could barely see anyone other than Reki in his periphery.

They crossed the finish line together.

Langa managed to brake before he ran into anyone waiting in the crowd, half stumbling off of his board, breathing heavily.

He wasn’t sure who won. It was too close to tell.

He glanced up to see Reki approaching him with a furious glare.

He froze, uncertain.

Reki got close and shoved his shoulder, hard. “What the _hell_ is wrong with you?” Reki snapped, his voice strained.

“I…” Langa opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find the words. He was still so out of breath, barely threaded together with the tension of not knowing the outcome.

“That was so _reckless,”_ Reki went on. “Jumping on the handrails like that, with that board? You could’ve seriously hurt yourself!”

“I wanted to win,” Langa finally managed, his voice shaky and distant. Reki was standing so close to him, more animated than he’d really been in days. Langa wasn’t sure whether he was relieved at Reki’s anger or not.

“Are you _insane?_ Have you completely lost it?” Reki ran a hand over his hair, and Langa could see that it was trembling. “Of all the _stupid_ things you’ve done—”

“I _needed_ to win,” Langa said, stronger this time.

Reki cut off, staring at him with wide, stressed eyes. He looked like he had more to say, but—

“You didn’t,” Miya’s voice came from nearby.

Reki turned from Langa, but Langa couldn’t tear his gaze away. The hard line of Reki’s jaw was tense, his lips downturned slightly, a stubborn crease between his brows. He looked…

 _Afraid,_ Langa realized.

Was that his fault? Had he… _scared_ Reki? Was that what this reaction was about? Not anger, but fear?

Maybe it was both.

“What was that?” Reki called to Miya, his voice forced back into something more neutral.

“Langa. He didn’t win,” Miya clarified. “You did.”

Langa was sure there was noise from the crowd, but all he could hear was static, and Reki’s soft, “Oh.”

Langa’s arms felt heavy at his sides. He didn’t know what to do. He kept his gaze on Reki, hoping he’d turn back, hoping he’d meet his gaze again.

“Well,” Reki said, shrugging one shoulder and craning his neck to look at the doors. “That’s it, then.”

“Reki…” Langa murmured.

“A deal’s a deal,” Reki said. Still not looking at him.

Langa felt frozen in place as he watched Reki pick up his board and walk out without turning back.

“You’re not going to follow him?” Miya asked.

“I lost,” Langa said flatly, his gaze stuck on the spot where Reki had disappeared. “I’m not supposed to follow him.”

 _That’s it, then._

Langa found he couldn’t stick around any longer. He ignored the chattering crowd, settling bets between grumbles and smug grins, people trying to stop him to talk about what a close call it had been, and who was that guy he was racing, anyway?

He ignored Miya and Shadow’s questions, too. He just found Joe to return the board, and went straight home.

All he could do was collapse onto his bed and stare up at the ceiling, feeling empty and hopeless. And lost. Completely, utterly lost.

He thought of that bright, heart-racing happiness, the floating energy that he’d gotten when Reki was teaching him to skate. What it had been like when he finally nailed his first ollie, and then what it had been like when Reki crouched next to him, smiling like he’d done something amazing.

He wondered if he’d ever have those feelings again.

He didn’t have a Plan B. Reki agreeing to race him in the first place was where he’d pinned all his hope; he didn’t have anything to do after that.

And he’d lost. He’d lost because he was scared, because he didn’t have the board Reki had made him, because he couldn’t fly anymore. This was the one time it really mattered, and he’d lost.

And Reki had just… left.

Not even a moment of satisfaction at his win, Reki had just picked up his board and walked out. Like there was nothing left to say, like he was claiming his prize of getting rid of Langa as soon as he could.

And what was Langa supposed to do now?

The next morning before school, Langa waited again. It was a force of habit more than anything at that point. It was over, he’d lost, he couldn’t really let himself believe that there was a chance at fixing anything anymore. Any shred of tentative hope was too precarious.

Still, he got there early, and he waited for Reki.

He was leaning back against the lamppost, looking up at the clouds drifting past, considering how long he needed to stay before he felt okay enough to head to school.

And then he heard the sound of Reki’s skateboard. A sound he had memorized.

Langa tensed, jerking his gaze over in time to see Reki slow to a stop.

Reki stared at him for a few moments.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Waiting for you,” Langa replied honestly.

Reki hesitated, before asking, “Why?”

“Just in case, I guess.”

“Oh.”

A silence stretched between them as they both hovered there. Langa wasn’t sure what to do, or what to say. It felt strange to be here with him now. He was caught between discomfort and hope.

Reki cleared his throat.

“We… might as well head to school together?” he said, carefully, like he was unsure of himself.

“I don’t have a skateboard,” Langa said.

Reki let out a soft laugh, offering a hesitant smile. “I mean. I can walk.”

“Oh, uh… Sure. Yeah. If you want.”

Langa kept staring at Reki. He didn’t look angry, or bitter, or afraid. He did look a little sad, though. His small smile didn’t reach his eyes and his shoulders were slightly hunched.

Reki picked up his board and started to walk, a slow, careful pace that was unlike the energy Langa always associated with him. In line with how withdrawn he’d been as of late, though.

He seemed so subdued. Langa wanted to ask him what was wrong, if he was okay, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t allowed to. 

They walked like that in silence for a while, Langa gluing his gaze to the pavement in front of him.

“Anything exciting happen at S after I left?” Reki asked, conversationally, like this wasn’t weird.

Langa cleared his throat.

“I left right after you did,” he replied.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A paused stretched between them again, where Langa felt like he could try to fit all the things he wanted to say.

_I’m sorry. I miss you. I love you. Please don’t leave me alone. Please don’t make me leave you alone._

“I really thought you would win,” Reki said softly.

They were getting close to the school. Still walking slowly, despite how close they were cutting it. There was no way they’d make it in the building in time. Langa kept quiet, glancing at Reki, not sure what to say to that.

“Kinda hoped you would, actually,” Reki added in a murmur, his shoulders curling forward.

Langa stopped walking.

“Let’s ditch,” he said.

Reki paused, glancing at him, a questioning look in his eye.

For a moment, Langa was sure he was going to say no.

“Okay,” Reki said slowly. “Where should we go?”

“The skatepark?”

Reki gestured vaguely at him. “You don’t have a board.”

“Um. Right.” Langa took a slightly shaky breath. “My place? My mom will be at work, so…”

If Reki was saying that he’d wanted Langa to win, too, that had to mean he still cared. It _had_ to mean he did want to talk. Right? It had to.

Reki hesitated. He looked back down the block, towards the school building.

“Sure,” he said, voice low.

They didn’t talk at all as they walked, the silence digging into Langa’s chest. He’d been used to quiet before, comfortable with it. But not like this, not with Reki. Reki talked, Reki rambled. It felt totally wrong to be walking beside him with quiet this heavy.

By the time they got to Langa’s place, he was ready to burst.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, without knowing which part he was trying to apologize for.

Reki blinked. “What?”

“For, well—for not keeping my end of the deal,” Langa decided. He shifted on his feet. They were still hovering by the front door. “If I lost, I was supposed to leave you alone. I guess waiting for you this morning wasn’t really doing that.”

“That’s… okay,” Reki said slowly.

“If you don’t mind… I kinda wanna continue not keeping up my end of the deal?”

“Sure,” Reki replied. He let out a soft, gentle laugh. “I, um. I didn’t really mean it anyway.”

Langa let out a breath. “You didn’t?”

“I was sort of relieved to see you there today,” Reki admitted.

“Oh. Well, um. Good.”

Reki glanced around, eyes tracing the walls and ceiling. “Um. Can we… do this in your room?”

Langa wasn’t sure what _this_ was, but he nodded and led the way.

When they reached his room, Langa took a seat on his bed, but Reki stayed stuck against the door.

“Huh,” he said, examining the room with a strange kind of melancholy. “It doesn’t look like you.”

“What?”

Reki furrowed his brow. His eyes lingered along the walls, on the mostly bare desk.

“The room. It doesn’t feel like you in here.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t know. It’s just not you.” Reki’s eyes settled on the floor by the desk, where Langa’s broken board was. “Oh, man, you weren’t kidding. That’s really broken.”

Langa swallowed, looking down. “Yeah. I thought about just… duct taping it.”

“It wouldn’t be safe to ride like that,” Reki replied.

“I know,” Langa said, though he’d be lying if he tried to say he wouldn’t have tried anyway. “I just don’t want it to be in pieces anymore.”

“Oh.” Reki paused. He reached a hand up to his hair, then flexed it and dropped it to his side again, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “I’m sorry. It’s not easy to… you know, actually talk. About what’s wrong.”

“Will you try, though?” Langa asked, his voice low. “We have time. I just… want to fix it.”

Reki sighed. He leaned back against the door, finally deciding to shove his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“It’s a lot of different things,” he said quietly, his voice heavy like rainclouds. “And I know it’s not all your fault. I know I was being uncool, too. People kept saying all this shit about how I was nothing compared to you, and I…”

Langa frowned. “What people?”

Reki shrugged. “Just. People at S, you know? Everyone there loves you, and suddenly, I was just the guy that hung around you. I didn’t want it to get to me, but it did. It felt… like you were so much better than me. Unreachable. I didn’t want it to matter, but, y’know. Kinda sucked, feeling left behind, like I wasn’t good enough.”

Langa studied his face, the hollow resignation in his gaze. It ached to hear that Reki had felt like he wasn’t good enough. 

“I… had no idea you were feeling like that.”

Reki’s mouth twisted into a quick, sad smile. “Yeah, I know. ’Cause I didn’t say anything.”

“You know it’s not true, right?” Langa said.

“Right,” Reki replied with a small, disbelieving laugh.

“I’m serious,” Langa said. “You’re amazing.”

Reki shook his head. “Not like you. Not like Miya. Not like Adam.”

“No, better, you’re amazing like _you.”_ Langa could barely wrap his mind around _not_ thinking Reki was incredible. “I’ve never tried harder in a race than I did against you, and you won.”

Despite the truth of it, Reki just shot him a skeptical glance.

“Only because you were using an unfamiliar board,” Reki said.

“Yeah, because I didn’t have the board _you_ made me, the one you built because you figured out exactly how to make up for what I was having trouble with,” Langa replied, insistent, gesturing to the broken pieces. “I’d bet anything that no one else at S could’ve built that board for me.”

Reki furrowed his brow, his mouth twitching up in a way that almost looked amused. “Anyone could figure out those modifications. It’s really not that hard.”

“To _you,”_ Langa said. “Because you’re smart, and you’re perceptive, and you know how things work. You _are_ amazing, Reki.”

Reki stared at him for a moment, studying his face. He smiled a little, but it faded quickly. Like he appreciated the sentiment, and he wasn’t going to argue against it anymore, but he still didn’t agree.

Langa felt some frustration at that. “You _are,”_ he said emphatically.

“Thanks,” Reki said softly. He sighed. “I’m sorry, in any case. I really didn’t mean for it to get to me like that. The night you told me you wanted to join the tournament was… especially bad. Can’t promise I would’ve reacted any better a different time, but… I was already feeling pretty low and worthless, and then you started talking about, well. Adam.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Reki ran a hand over the back of his head. “I know I could’ve… handled it better. Just hard to stomach you talking about how great he is.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t know,” Langa said, his own voice sounding weak and shaky in his ear.

“I just… I _couldn’t_ understand why you’d still want to go up against Adam. After what he did to me, after he could’ve hurt you, too, I just…” Reki shook his head. “I still don’t understand it. I was _terrified._ And you… weren’t. Sort of scared me, your willingness to risk it.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Langa replied.

“But you did,” Reki said simply. “And how could you still… still _admire_ that guy, after everything? It’s not just that you wanted to race against him, you were… You called him amazing. I don’t know what you see when you look at him, but all I see is the guy who put me in the hospital and tried to do the same to you.”

“I don’t really know how to explain it,” Langa said. He brought a hand to his chest, remembering his own heartbeat. “I never finished my race with Adam. I still don’t know who would’ve won. Felt like I needed to find out.”

“Why would you even care?” Reki asked.

Langa frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think I do care anymore.”

“Honestly, man, it stung that what he did with me wasn’t enough for you to just hate him.” Reki let out a short, humorless laugh, some bitterness in it. “What he said to Miya was already enough for me. Everything else is just another thing to add to the freaking pile.”

“It _was_ enough,” Langa said, frowning. “You think I don’t hate him for what he did to you?”

Reki just sort of shrugged.

“Reki, I…”

Langa thought about the desperate, terrified rage he’d felt in the pit of his stomach when he’d seen Reki crumpled on the ground, bleeding as he murmured out an apology for losing. The fury he’d felt as Adam sauntered up, with that smug smile and those grating comments, while Langa was spiraling over how hurt his best friend could be.

That anger had been overshadowed by the bone-deep relief later that night at hearing that Reki was going to be okay, but it was never _gone._

Langa swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“I’m _sorry._ I do hate him for hurting you. I really, _really_ do. I thought you knew that.”

Reki kept his gaze on the floor. “I didn’t,” he said simply.

“I’d hate anyone who hurt you, Reki,” Langa said. He looked down at his hands. “Sort of hate myself for that, really.”

“Langa, it’s… it’s okay.”

“It’s _not.”_

After a moment of quiet, Reki finally moved further into the room, hesitating before sitting next to Langa on the bed. Leaving enough space between them that there was no risk they’d touch.

Which was evidence enough for Langa that it wasn’t okay. When Reki was happy, excited, when he was _okay,_ he was generous with physical affection. Throwing his arm over people’s shoulders, ruffling their hair. If he was keeping a careful distance, then they weren’t okay.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Langa said, without really thinking about it, just focusing on the space between them.

“You won’t,” Reki said, like it was simple.

“I’m sorry,” Langa said again.

“Me too,” Reki replied. He dragged a hand down his face. “Can we, like, stop apologizing, though?”

Langa studied Reki’s face carefully for a moment. He looked… tired. Distantly, Langa remembered how Reki could see one clip of Miya skating and know right away that he wasn’t having any fun. He wished he could read people like Reki could.

Really, he wished he could read Reki better.

“There’s more, though, isn’t there?” Langa asked.

Reki hesitated. He shot Langa a smile. “Not really. Not with us, anyway,” he said. There was some light in his tone again, but it didn’t feel the same. “Can you just… _try_ to be less reckless? What you pulled with the handrails, I mean… Shit, Langa. That freaked me out.”

“I know,” Langa replied. “I was desperate.”

Reki shrank a little. “…Sorry.”

Langa tried to smile. “Thought we were done apologizing,” he murmured. He took a breath. “I can try to be less reckless. And I can try to… pay more attention.”

“Pay more attention?” Reki echoed.

Langa shrugged. “I didn’t know you were hurt,” he said. He looked down at his lap, picking at the seam of his jeans. “Can you try to talk to me when something is bothering you? Instead of pushing me away?”

Reki let out a soft, slightly shaky breath. “I can try to do that,” he said slowly.

A silence settled between them, more comfortable than it had been. Langa felt some relief unravel in his chest, that Reki was still here, that they were talking again, that he hadn’t ruined everything between them.

Reki still looked tired, though, and he still felt far away.

“Are you okay?” Langa asked, voice low.

Reki smiled a little, looking down at his hands. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His smile looked so sad, though.

“Reki. Talk to me. Are you really?” Langa pressed.

Reki let out a small huff. He shot a quick glance at Langa before looking down again. “I am. Or… I will be. I just—I don’t always have the energy to be…” He gestured vaguely. “It’s not always easy. A lot of little things pile up, and there I am again, totally drained, and nothing feels fun anymore. It’s good that we talked about it, but it’s not like everything goes back to normal right away now.”

“I’m sorry,” Langa replied.

“No more apologizing.” Reki shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Really. It happens sometimes. I’m fine.”

Langa frowned a little. “You don’t have to be.”

Reki looked over at him. “What?”

“You don’t have to be fine. Believe me, I get it.” He did. He hadn’t been fine lately either. He was familiar with it. He missed his dad, and he missed the snow, and he missed Reki’s smile.

Langa took a short, nervous breath. He settled his hand between them, palm up.

Slowly, hesitantly, Reki slid his hand over Langa’s.

Langa laced their fingers together, squeezing lightly.

“I can wait with you while it’s not fine,” Langa offered quietly.

“It’s not especially fun,” Reki replied.

“I don’t mind.” Nervously, Langa rubbed his thumb over Reki’s hand. “You know, skating without you… wasn’t especially fun either.”

“What do you mean?”

Langa shrugged one shoulder and curled forward a little. “You made it fun. I don’t want to do it without you. I’d honestly rather just be here, being not-fine with you.”

Reki’s hand twitched against his. “You don’t have to say that.”

Langa frowned. “I mean it.”

Honestly, Langa didn’t really know why Reki would think he was just saying it. It felt pretty obvious to him. Of course he’d rather be with Reki than not, regardless of what they were doing. Or if they were doing anything at all. Langa just wanted to be with him.

Reki didn’t say anything. He was keeping very still, like he was trying not to draw attention to himself.

“Reki?” Langa said softly, keeping his gaze on their connected hands. The tension between them felt different.

“Yeah?” Reki breathed.

 _So he can feel it, too._

“Can I tell you something?”

“I mean, sure.”

“I… really like you,” Langa said. “You don’t, um. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. Something about how it’s always better to have tried.”

Reki let out a shaky breath. Hesitating. “You, um. You really mean that?”

Langa squeezed Reki’s hand. “Of course I do.”

There was a pause, and the air felt charged.

“Hey, Langa?” Reki said quietly.

“Yeah?” Langa replied. Still staring at their hands.

“Look at me.”

And there was that feeling Langa had before—his heart racing, like it was pulling out of his chest, that bright, floating feeling. The one that had made him reckless enough to believe he could fly. The one that had left him breathless when he crossed a finish line.

It had never been about anything other than Reki. Langa had suspected as much.

He looked up slowly, daring to feel a little spark of hope.

He met Reki’s gaze, and Reki was smiling, warm and soft. With just a hint of that familiar excited glow.

“Me too,” Reki said.

Langa blinked. “What?” he said, just in case he misheard.

Reki’s smile got a little brighter. “Me _too_ ,” he repeated emphatically.

Langa couldn’t help but smile back, inexplicably feeling shy now. “Oh. Cool.”

“Seriously?” Reki crinkled his nose a little and his head dipped forward as he started to laugh. He brought his free hand up to cover his mouth.

“What?” Langa replied, half-heartedly defensive. He was too glad to hear Reki’s genuine laugh to worry about whether it was with him or at him.

“You’re so ridiculous,” Reki said through his giggling. “‘ _Oh, cool.’”_

“Coming from _you_ ,” Langa retorted.

“I know, I know,” Reki said. He caught his breath, looking back up at Langa and smiling again. _Brighter._ His cheeks were flushed and there was a teasing glint in his eye that Langa had missed _so much._

“Can I kiss you?” Langa asked impulsively.

“Oh,” Reki said, his eyes widening slightly in some kind of realization. “Oh my god, _yeah.”_

Langa let out a soft huff of laughter before leaning towards Reki, gripping his hand tighter. Reki reached his free hand up to stroke back Langa’s hair and pull him the rest of the way.

Their lips met, and Langa’s eyes fell closed, and everything felt like it was going to be more than okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I don't know how I got here <3 you can find me on Tumblr at official-mermaid, if you like


End file.
